


Catching Lightning

by distortedreality



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5 + 1, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, teeth rotting amounts of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 18:37:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12636849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distortedreality/pseuds/distortedreality
Summary: “Mommy?”“Yes, baby?”“I think I know who I’m going to marry.” The little indented frown had disappeared from between Stiles’ brows, instead a wide smile lit up his face.“Well then, you’d better introduce us to this girl with the pretty hair,” Claudia said, ruffling Stiles' short hair.“Don’t be silly, Mommy. I’m not going to marry her,” Stiles replied.The 5 times Stiles asked Derek to marry him, and the 1 time Derek asked Stiles.





	Catching Lightning

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it again with another 5+1 trope, because apparently I haven’t written enough of those already.  
> For convenience sake I’m making Derek and Stiles the same age in this. Also, this turned out way fluffier than I was expecting.
> 
>  
> 
> This is for Jade, because I said I would.

  1. **7 years old**



“Mommy, how do you know if you should get married?”

Claudia peeked over the top of her book to look at Stiles, who had been sitting on the floor at her feet flipping through a picture book. The little furrow between his brows that always made an appearance as he mouthed a difficult word was back, his big brown eyes watching her carefully.

“Baby, aren’t you a little too young to be asking that?” Claudia asked. John was either going to have a field day or a heart attack when she told him. She wasn’t sure which one yet, it could honestly go either way.

“I’m not a baby, Mommy,” Stiles replied, his frown deepening.

“No, honey, you’re not,” Claudia acquiesced, marking the page in her book and placing it closed on her lap. There was no point arguing with Stiles over semantics; if she did they’d never get anywhere. He was far too like her in that way. “Why do you want to know? Do you have a crush on a girl at school?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles said, frowning down at his hands. “I think she’s pretty, but I don’t want to kiss her like you kiss Daddy. But she said if I think she’s pretty we should get married because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Oh, baby,” Claudia smiled. She leant down towards Stiles and he reached up for her, letting himself be pulled onto her lap. “You don’t ever have to marry anyone if you don’t want to, not even if you think she’s pretty. Or he,” she quickly tacked on.

“But how do you know if you want to marry them? I _do_ think her hair’s really pretty, and Mr Hale always says Mrs. Talia’s hair is pretty. Sometimes he kisses her but I don’t want to do that.”

“You’ll know you want to marry someone when you love them, like I love your Daddy,” Claudia replied.

“But _how_ do you know that?” Stiles cried, twisting in Claudia’s lap so they were eye level.

“Well, they’ll make you feel happy inside and you’ll want to take care of them, but they’ll also want to take care of you. Most importantly, they’ll make you laugh,” Claudia said. She reached forward to tickle Stiles as she spoke, his squeals floating through the air like the tinkling of a wind chime.

“When did you ask Daddy to marry you?” Stiles asked after his giggles had died down.

“He asked me. I’ll show you some photos later if I can find them, but he took me to a place called Spain way across the ocean and asked me on the beach. But I’d known I loved him for a long while before he asked me to marry him.”

“Mommy?”

“Yes, baby?”

“I think I know who I’m going to marry.” The little indented frown had disappeared from between Stiles’ brows, instead a wide smile lit up his face.

“Well then, you’d better introduce us to this girl with the pretty hair,” Claudia said, ruffling Stiles’ short hair.

“Don’t be silly, Mommy. I’m not going to marry _her_ ,” Stiles replied. He pressed a sloppy kiss to Claudia’s cheek, before sliding off her lap and picking up his picture book.

Claudia watched him for a moment with a fond smile on her face, before picking up her own book and opening it to the correct page.

*

“Derek,” Stiles hissed from the floor of Derek’s bedroom.

Derek ignored him and attempted to go back to sleep.

“Derek,” Stiles hissed again, a little louder this time.

Derek pulled the covers up to his ears and squeezed his eyes shut tighter. Stiles always complained when he had to sleep on a mattress on the floor, and always tried to convince Derek to let him sleep in the bed too. Derek would have agreed, except Stiles usually kicked in his sleep and Derek hated how the bruises looked on his shins. Stiles didn’t agree; he would spend all of lunch period poking them and saying how Derek looked like a Dalmatian.

“ _Derek_ ,” Stiles practically yelled, hurling his stuffed giraffe up onto Derek’s bed. Derek shot up into a sitting position and grabbed the giraffe, holding him aloft in front of Stiles.

“You can come in the bed, but if you kick me I’m keeping Stampy.”

“I don’t wanna sleep in your stupid bed anyway,” Stiles replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Liar, liar,” Derek said. He waved Stampy in front of Stiles’ face until Stiles shot out a hand to grab the toy back.

“That’s not what I was going to ask, anyway,” Stiles huffed.

“Fine, what did you want?” Derek asked, lying back down.

“Derek, I think we should get married.”

“Why?” Derek asked. “I’ll let you sleep up here and share my Hershey’s even if we’re not married.”

“My Mommy said that if someone makes you laugh you should marry them, and you’re not as funny as me, but you’re really funny sometimes. And she said you take care of each other, and you let me cry on you when I broke my arm last year and didn’t even tell anyone.”

“I didn’t want them to make fun of you,” Derek replied.

“Yeah, you took care of me. So I think we should get married,” Stiles said, sounding triumphant.

“Does that mean I have to wear a dress, since you asked me?” Derek asked. “I don’t want to wear a dress. Laura tries to make me wear them sometimes but they’re tight in weird places.”

“I don’t know. I’ll ask my Mommy when I get home,” Stiles said, hugging Stampy to his chest.

They were quiet for a moment before Derek spoke up.

“Stiles,” Derek said into the dark room. “You can sleep up here if you want.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Stiles cried, heaving himself up onto Derek’s bed, and hitting Derek in the face with Stampy in the process.

“You better not kick me,” Derek threatened.

Stiles just giggled in response.

 

 

  1. **12 years old**



“Girls are stupid,” Stiles announced as he threw open the door to Derek’s room.

“Hello to you too, bud,” Derek replied, sliding his headphones off.

“They’re dumb and I don’t know why I like them,” Stiles declared. He let his backpack drop to the floor and flopped down onto Derek’s bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“So I take it Lydia didn’t agree to go to the dance with you?”

“She’s going with _Jackson_ ,” Stiles replied with disdain. Derek snorted at Stiles’ ridiculous voice change when he said Jackson’s name.

“Jackson’s a dick, don’t worry about it,” Derek said, digging a chocolate bar out of his desk drawer and throwing it at Stiles.

“I don’t care, anyway,” Stiles declared. His voice was distorted as he tried to speak through his mouthful of Hershey’s, but Derek could guess what he was saying. Didn’t mean he believed a word of it, but he could make it out.

“Ok, Stiles,” Derek said, rolling his eyes.

“I _don’t_ ,” Stiles cried. “I didn’t even try. If I did then she would have said yes. But I don’t care, anyway.”

Derek sighed and closed his laptop. He sat on the bed next to Stiles and patted his arm.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, you know,” Derek said. “I don’t care if she said no. it’s her loss, anyway. You’re awesome.”

“You think so?” Stiles asked in a high pitched voice, fluttering his eyelashes jokingly.

“You know you are, dumbass,” Derek laughed, hitting Stiles in the face with his pillow.

“It’s true,” Stiles laughed. “You are too, you know. No girl is ever going to be good enough for you.”

“Wow, that got really deep really fast.”

“That’s what she—“

“Don’t you dare,” Derek cried, muffling Stiles’ voice with the pillow.

“I yield, I yield,” Stiles laughed, pushing at Derek’s hands.

“Not even going to try to fight it?” Derek joked, dramatically flexing his nonexistent arm muscles.

“Dude, we both know you’re stronger than me, I don’t need you to prove it,” Stiles said. He sighed, and glanced up at Derek. “Seriously, no girl is ever going to be as cool as this. Let’s just marry each other, yeah?”

“You couldn’t handle all this,” Derek joked. He wiggled his eyebrows, making Stiles laugh. “Wanna play Mario Kart?” Derek asked after a moment.

“Hell yes,” Stiles cried. “First one to the couch gets to be Mario.”

“That’s cheating,” Derek yelled, as Stiles shot off before he finished his sentence.

Stiles got there first, but he let Derek pick Mario anyway.

 

 

  1. **17 years old**



Stiles was either dying, or already dead and in the worst afterlife ever.

Well, maybe nothing that bad, but he definitely had the flu or something.

His dad hadn’t believed him when he’d told him that morning, pointing out that Stiles had a Biology test that week.

“That’s on Friday,” Stiles groaned. “And I’m dying. You can’t send me to school if I’m dying. Can I, like, sue you for that?”

“You’ll have to send any further questions through my lawyer,” his dad joked. He pressed a cool hand to Stiles’ forehead and frowned. “You’ve definitely got a fever.”

“I could’ve told you that.”

“You’re not exactly the most reliable source.”

“I’m wounded. _Wounded,_ I tell you,” Stiles cried, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead and dropping his head down onto his pillow like a maiden.

“Well I’m glad to see your dramatics haven’t been affected by this mystery illness,” John muttered. “You really want to stay home?”

“It’s in the best interests of my classmates. A selfless decision, really,” Stiles said. “You remember how Derek and Scott were talking about the plays for their lacrosse game on Friday? I wouldn’t want to be responsible for them being too sick to play, and I’m sure you wouldn’t either.”

John raised his eyebrows at Stiles, who smiled weakly back.

“Alright, I’ll let you stay home—“

“ _Thank_ you,” Stiles cried.

“I’m not done yet,” John replied. “I’ll let you stay home, but if I catch even a _hint_ of you anywhere other than within the confines of this house you’ll be grounded for a month. And that includes Saturday night next week.”

“What’s Saturday night next week? I’m not doing anything then,” Stiles said, innocently.

“Don’t think I don’t know about that party Laura’s throwing at the Hale house during her weekend home from college.”

“That I know nothing about,” Stiles replied quickly.

“Sure thing. You’ll be ok with me inviting Scott and Melissa over for dinner that night, then? Since you’re not doing anything anyway,” John asked, raising an eyebrow at Stiles.

“Actually, maybe you should keep that night free.”

“That’s what I thought. So we’re clear then: no leaving the house.”

“Crystal, Daddy-o.”

“I’ll see you later. Get Derek to grab some make up work from your teachers, would you?”

“Dad, you wouldn’t want me to spend my last few living hours doing homework, would you?” Stiles cried as John walked out his door.

“You haven’t forgotten that I know about that party already, have you?”

“Homework sounds like a truly fantastic idea,” Stiles replied. “Great chat, Dad.”

*

“Derek, I’m dying,” Stiles groaned.

“I didn’t know dead people could talk. Guess you learn something new every day,” Derek joked.

“This isn’t the time for jokes, Der. You should be in the process of writing my eulogy,” Stiles declared. “Something dramatic and meaningful and full of compliments.”

“Here’s my notes from today, and Allison’s from History. I read through hers and changed some stuff, though. She got a couple of things wrong,” Derek said. He pulled a stack of papers out of his backpack and handed them to Stiles.

“God, why are you so smart?” Stiles groaned.

“It’s a gift. Have to be able to balance out your sarcasm,” Derek joked. “How you holding up?”

“Terribly,” Stiles groaned dramatically.

“Ok, but how are you _actually_ doing?”

“I’m alright,” Stiles sighed, glancing over at Derek. “I feel like crap, but it’s manageable for now.”

“Wanna watch a movie? I’ll let you pick.”

“Those words are magic to my ears,” Stiles sighed happily.

A few minutes into the movie Derek’s phone buzzed and he darted out the door.

“Dude, you can’t leave in the middle of a Leo DiCaprio performance,” Stiles yelled after him. “The man’s a genius.”

“I’m not leaving,” Derek yelled back. He started banging around in what Stiles guessed was the kitchen, so he shrugged and lay back down to wait for Derek.

“Holy shit,” Stiles said when Derek came back up.

“Don’t,” Derek started.

“It’s Martha fucking Stewart.”

“Stop,” Derek sighed.

“You’re literally wearing a frilly apron right now, you can’t expect me not to,” Stiles said.

“It splashed, I didn’t want to get any on my clothes,” Derek retorted. He handed Stiles a bowl of soup with a few bits of soft looking bread resting against the side.

“Dude, this smells amazing,” Stiles sighed. He went to take a sip, but Derek stopped him.

“It’s just come off the stove, so it’s hot. Obviously.”

“When did you even make this?” Stiles asked. He broke off a bit of bread and stuffed it in his mouth.

“I made it at home and heated it up on the stove. Quite simple, you should try it some time.”

“Fuck off,” Stiles said, poking Derek in the ribs. “But seriously, thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet, it could be terrible. I’ll be honest with you, I almost mixed up the salt and the sugar. It would have been a disaster if Mom hadn’t walked in when I was about to put it in.”

“Classic,” Stiles snorted. He blew on a spoonful of soup until it was cool enough to eat. “Holy crap.”

“Is it terrible?”

“It’s literally the opposite of terrible.”

“Oh, good.”

“Derek.”

“Yes?”

“Marry me.”

Derek snorted, rolling his eyes hard. “I take it I didn’t fuck it up then?”

“I will totally pay you to cook for me now.”

“Think I can tell Mom that’s my job so she won’t make me get one over the summer again?”

“Worth a shot,” Stiles replied. He bonked a piece of bread on the end of Derek’s nose. Derek rolled his eyes but chased Stiles’ fingers with his mouth, taking the bread from him.

 

 

  1. **19 years old**



The multiple cans of energy drink mixed with a ridiculous amount of coffee had apparently worn off, because Stiles was crashing had. Which was the opposite of what needed to be happening. He hadn’t pulled two all nighters in a row to end up not getting all his papers done.

Derek would call him an idiot, if he was awake. Stiles was inclined to agree with him. He’d been so caught up with drinking and going out every night that he’d managed to leave four major papers to the very last minute, and now he was paying the price.

“Those aren’t _words_ ,” Stiles groaned, squinting at his computer.

“What are you doing?” Derek asked. He’d stumbled out of his room rubbing his eyes, his hair all mussed and his sleep shirt soft from wear. “Stiles, it’s 2:30 in the morning.”

“Two of these papers are due at 9 and I think I’ve finished, but, Derek, I can’t _remember_. Also I don’t think this is English. Also i’m pretty sure I wrote a full paragraph in Polish in one of these, but I can’t figure out which one because my brain isn’t reading words anymore. Everything looks like mumbo jumbo. Do you think if I wrote ‘please’ in red marker across all the pages they’d give me a pass?”

“I told you not to do this,” Derek sighed, sitting down in the chair next to Stiles.

“I know, and you were right. As usual.”

“Wow, you must really be wiped out. You actually sounded sincere when you said that.”

“Thank god we’ve got your powers of deduction or we might never have reached that conclusion,” Stiles retorted.

“And he’s back,” Derek said.

“I’m so screwed,” Stiles groaned. He dropped his head down on the table, getting a bit of loose wool in his mouth from one of Derek and Erica’s knitting projects.

“What do you have left to do?” Derek asked, sighing slightly.

“Proof reading. I think. But i’m honestly not 100% sure.”

“Ok, here’s what we’re going to do: you’re going to go to bed—“

“I can’t.”

“Stiles. You’re going to go to bed and I’ll look over your stuff.”

“Seriously?” Stiles asked.

“I’d rather not have your death on my hands,” Derek joked. “Come on.” He grabbed Stiles’ arm and helped him up, practically carrying him to his room.

“You’re the best,” Stiles slurred. He fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the mattress, one leg falling off the side.

Derek shook his head, but helped Stiles out of his jeans, tucking him under the covers tightly.

*

“ _Fuck_ ,” Stiles yelled as soon as he woke up. “Oh shit, I’m dead.”

He stumbled out into the kitchen, tripping over his own feet twice on the way.

“Woah, slow down,” Derek said, appearing suddenly in front of him. “I wondered when you were going to wake up.”

“Dude, I’m dead.”

“You look a lot better to me than you did before you went to sleep,” Derek replied. He looked him up and down a few times, raising his eyebrows.

“I had two papers due at 9, and it’s now 2. Guess I can kiss college goodbye.” Stiles glanced around the kitchen, before heading to the cupboard where they kept their alcohol.

“What are you doing?” Derek asked, grabbing a bottle of vodka from Stiles’ hands.

“May as well enjoy the college lifestyle before I get kicked out,” Stiles replied.

“You’re not getting kicked out,” Derek sighed. He steered Stiles to the kitchen table and forced him down into a seat. “I told you I’d look over your stuff and I did. I also submitted them, so you’re good. I left the two that are due tomorrow unsent in case you wanted to change anything I’d done.”

”You are quite literally my guardian angel,” Stiles said, throwing his arms around Derek’s neck. “You’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Derek replied, but he hugged Stiles back.

“Seriously, I love you, bud. In fact, let’s go to Vegas right now. We can get hitched in a shitty chapel run by Elvis? What do you say?”

“While that’s a tempting offer, why don’t we start with breakfast? Well, lunch, really.”

“Lunch sounds fantastic,” Stiles replied, beaming at Derek. Lucky enough for him, Derek beamed back.

 

 

  1. **22 years old**



“Dude, what’s this?” Stiles asked, holding up a piece of paper he’d taken from Derek’s desk.

Derek turned in his chair, glancing between Stiles and the paper a few times before answering “it’s nothing”.

“It’s not _nothing_ , Derek,” Stiles insisted. “Why didn’t you tell me you got offered that museum job? I thought you were really excited about it?”

“I’m not taking it,” Derek replied after a moment.

“ _Why_?” Stiles asked. “It’s in the exact field you’re looking for jobs in, it looks interesting, and it looks like it pays _really_ well. There is zero reason for you not to take this.”

“I don’t want to move,” Derek said. He wasn’t looking at Stiles anymore. Instead his eyes were locked on the spot on his desk where Stiles had accidentally burnt away a circle of wood during their early college years.

“I thought you were applying all up the coast?”

“That one’s in New York,” Derek replied. “It’s too far.”

“Derek, take it anyway,” Stiles said. He walked over to Derek and waited until he met his eyes. “This could be your shot to set yourself up. Don’t throw it away.”

“I don’t want to leave California,” Derek said again.

“But _why_? I know it’d be weird to be away from everyone, but you could come visit during the holidays or on long weekends.”

“I don’t want to be that far away.”

“From Beacon Hills?” Stiles asked.

“I don’t … ugh,” Derek replied.

“Talk to me here,” Stiles said. “You don’t need to put up a front, or whatever. It’s me.”

“I don’t want to be that far away from you,” Derek said, staring directly into Stiles’ eyes.

“I’ve loved living with you too, but I don’t want to hold you back,” Stiles said. “Go forth and meet good looking people and make memories and have a good life.”

“I don’t want to meet good looking people,” Derek scoffed. “I want to make more memories with you. I want to have a good life _with you_ , Stiles.”

“Why do I get the feeling we’re not on the same page,” Stiles said.

“Jesus,” Derek muttered. “I don’t want to go off to New York and meet some girl and buy a stupid house with a fucking white picket fence because I want to do that _with you_. I just—“

“Are you fucking with me?” Stiles asked.

“ _What_? I—“

“Are you fucking with me, yes or no?”

“ _No_ , god—“

“Ok, good,” Stiles said. He pushed Derek’s shoulder back so he was flat against the back of his chair, and leaned in to kiss him. Derek immediately started moving his mouth with Stiles’, letting him control what to give and take. Stiles pulled back when he felt his hand start to drift under the material of Derek’s shirt, moving back and gasping in air. “Holy shit.”

“I’m taking that as a positive reaction,” Derek said.

“Please do,” Stiles replied, before dropping to his knees in front of Derek.

*

Later, when Stiles was a little sweaty, lying half on top of Derek in his bed, sheets mussed around them, he took stock of the step they’d taken. He ached a little in places he hadn’t before when there were women involved, but Derek’s mouth tasted like Stiles’ body when he leaned over to kiss him again, so he didn’t think about it too much.

“So, you should take that job in New York,” Stiles said, drawing little patterns on Derek’s bare chest.

“What?” Derek asked, sitting up slightly, jostling Stiles’ head in the process.

“Not like – oh my god, calm down. I meant, you should take it, and I could look for jobs over there too. If you wanted, that is.”

“I want,” Derek said, grabbing Stiles’ free hand. “I really want.”

“Guess we’re moving to New York,” Stiles laughed. “God, my Dad’s going to freak. Your Mom probably will, too.”

“Nah, she’ll have a field day. Her and Laura have been hinting at us getting together for a decade, at least. As long as we’re together she won’t care where we go.”

“I’m glad your Mom’s supportive,” Stiles said quietly.

“Yours would be to, you know,” Derek said. “No matter what you think of yourself, she’d be proud of you, just like I am.”

“Jesus, you’re going to make me cry,” Stiles replied, swatting at Derek lightly.

“I could take your mind off things, if you want?” Derek asked, wiggling his eyebrows. He moved down Stiles’ body, his fingers leaving a path that felt as hot as fire.

“Holy shit,” Stiles gasped, fingers clenching in the bedsheets. “Where the fuck have you been hiding these talents all these years?”

Derek laughed into Stiles’ skin softly.

“Ok, so I know we started dating, like, 3 hours ago, but you need to marry me, like, yesterday. If you ever leave me I’m never having sex this good again. I’m locking that mouth down,” Stiles gasped. “Holy _fuck_ , Derek. Yep, marriage ASAP.”

“Maybe I will one day,” Derek retorted, laughing at the high pitched whine Stiles let out when he removed his mouth.

“Is that so?” Stiles replied, gasping as Derek worked him over.

Derek didn’t say anything that time, his mouth too occupied to reply.

 

 

**+1. 26 years old**

“You have to tell me where we’re going.”

“That defeats the meaning of ‘surprise’.”

“But I wanna know,” Stiles replied.

“Nope,” Derek said. “You’ll just have to deal with it.”

Stiles groaned dramatically and thrust his carry-on bag into Derek’s arms.

“I’m carrying this now, am I?” Derek asked with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s payback for organizing a secretive holiday that is wonderful and I appreciate it very much, but that is also driving me insane because you won’t tell me where we’re going.”

“I’m going to pick out the appreciative bit and ignore the rest until I’ve had another coffee,” Derek replied.

“I’ll get it, you sit down,” Stiles offered, kissing Derek on the cheek.

Derek didn’t become any less secretive after his second cappuccino, but that didn’t stop Stiles asking.

“This is practically kidnapping. Do you think this meets the definitions of kidnapping?”

“Nope.”

“Der, I’m going insane.”

“That makes two of us,” Derek replied. “But I love you regardless. God help me.”

Derek handed their boarding passes to the flight attendant, hiding the printed words from Stiles.

“You do know I’ll find out in about 5 minutes, right?” Stiles said as Derek led them to their seats.

“Then I’m prolonging the surprise and I still won’t be the one to tell you.”

Stiles stared each of the passengers down, looking for clues as to where they were headed. Most of them looked to be dressed in comfortable clothes, so that probably meant a long flight.

“It’s a long flight, then?” Stiles asked. Derek just rolled his eyes and held out a piece of gum, which Stiles gratefully took.

After all the passengers were sitting down and Stiles had just about bounced out of his seat, the speaker system crackled slightly and a male voice filled the cabin. He started running through the typical pre-takeoff motions, aiding in the flight attendant’s safety display.

“Thank you for flying with us, we hope you enjoy the flight to Malaga today.”

“Malaga?” Stiles asked. “Where’s that?”

“Guess you’ll have to wait a little longer,” Derek teased.

Stiles only had to wait a moment before one of the passengers in a nearby row mentioned a city Stiles recognized, and he whirled to face Derek.

“Holy crap, Spain? _Derek_ ,” Stiles said, mouth agape.

“Do you like it?” Derek asked.

“I _love_ it. I’ve always wanted to go to Spain. God, this must have cost a fortune.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Derek said, taking his hand. “Trust me, I didn’t want to skimp out.”

“Don’t tell me that, I’ll start ordering expensive champagne everywhere,” Stiles joked.

“Go right ahead,” Derek replied, kissing him.

*

They didn’t stay in Malaga long, travelling to other seaside villages before checking into a resort in Marbella, a name which sat in the back of Stiles’ memories in a place he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

True to his word, Derek didn’t skimp out. Stiles joked that Derek was luring him into a false life of luxury, one that included more room service than they could eat, and expensive champagne with every meal that Stiles sucked down like water.

Stiles would never have had cause to complain about their sex life before, but Derek had apparently taken it upon himself to outdo everything Stiles thought he’d known about Derek’s bedroom habits. He selflessly gave Stiles orgasm after orgasm every morning and night, barely stopping to think about himself until Stiles insisted he return the favor.

“This has been perfect,” Stiles said. They were walking along the beach, the sun setting on the horizon. The low light bounced off Derek’s cheekbones in a way that made him look even more handsome than he did already. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Glad you think so. I wanted to spoil you a little bit,” Derek said. His steps slowed down and he glanced at Stiles before tugging him off the pavement and onto a path that lead down onto the sandy beach.

“Woah, it’s a little early for skinny dipping, don’t you think?” Stiles said as Derek lead them towards the water.

“Does the ‘it’s 5 o’clock somewhere’ saying apply to that?” Derek asked. He stopped when they were as close to the water as they could get without the waves lapping at their toes when they pushed in towards the shore.

“Watching the sunset on the beach, quite romantic,” Stiles said, nodding. “Hey, what are you—“ he stopped short when he looked down to see Derek down on one knee in front of him. “Holy shit, is this… ok, I’ll stop talking now. Yep, shutting up.”

“So you know I’m terrible at speeches and anything like this, and I wrote this whole thing down before scrapping it and telling myself to be spontaneous like you, but I’m not like you. And I think that’s why we work so well. We’ve never been the same, you’re funny and quick and sarcastic and _gorgeous_ and I love you so much.”

Stiles bit his lip and reached out to entwine his fingers Derek’s, wanting to interrupt him to tell him he was also _all of those things_ , that _he_ was the one that was the goddamn embodiment of perfection, but he let Derek speak.

“When we were kids you said your Mom told you that you knew you were in love if the other person made you laugh and you wanted to take care of each other. Well, I want to do that for the rest of my life. I want to spend the rest of my life trying to catch up to you, to think as fast on my feet as you, and to learn from you like I do every day. I think you asked me to marry you 5 times so far, so I thought I’d return the favor. So, Stiles, will you marry me?” Derek asked. He pulled a small box out of his pocket, where two white gold rings sat.

Stiles made a choked noise, grabbing at Derek’s shoulder to pull him back up.

“I thought we could get something engraved on them, but I wanted you to decide what went on mine. Crap, you didn’t actually say yes yet,” Derek said. “Do you—“

“ _Yes_ , oh my god,” Stiles cried. He threw his arms around Derek and pressed their mouths together hard, making Derek laugh into the kiss. “This is the best holiday of my life. Nothing can top this.”

“We could do a destination wedding?” Derek replied. Stiles made grabby hands at the ring box, and Derek handed him one. “Aren’t we supposed to wait until the wedding day to put the rings on each other?” he asked as Stiles tried to slip one onto his finger.

“Not anymore,” Stiles replied. Derek slipped the ring onto Stiles’ finger once Stiles had finished with his own, and kissed him softly.

“Was this ok?” he asked. “With the location and everything? I thought you’d like it but I wasn’t sure—“

“Wait, _Marbella_ ,” Stiles said. “That’s what … Derek … this is just like—“

“Your parents, I know,” Derek said.

“Mom used to tell me the story of my Dad proposing to her in Spain all the time when I was a kid. That was the last one she told me before…”

“I thought it would be a nice way to honor them. It _is_ ok, yeah?”

“It’s so ok. So, so ok. It’s perfect. She’d have loved it. She would have loved sharing this with us.”

“I know,” Derek said, entwining their fingers. “I’ve got another surprise back at the hotel, if you want to head back? Or if you want we can stay out here a little longer.”

“Maybe just a bit,” Stiles said. “Let’s sit for a few minutes.”

Derek nodded, and they moved up away from the incoming tide, sitting down on the sand and leaning against each other to watch the waves. Stiles rubbed the new ring on his finger as he gazed out, liking the feel of the cool band on his skin. He leaned against Derek’s chest and Derek wrapped an arm around him, hooking his chin on the top of Stiles’ head.

Stiles hoped his mom was watching them, wherever she was. He wanted to share the memory with her, wanted to thank her for telling him what it meant to love all those years ago. Using her system he’d been right, after all; he was going to marry Derek Hale.

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, send me a prompt on [tumblr](https://selectedparagraphs.tumblr.com/) if you’re keen.


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